


Distraction

by awarrington



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim catches Spock in an intimate situation and can't get the image out of his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LiveJournal st_xi_kink meme. Prompt at the end of the story.

It’s not every day you catch a Vulcan jerking himself off.  
  
That was the thought that occurred to Jim as he sat on his bed in his pajama bottoms, feeling somewhere between bemused and, if he was honest with himself, aroused - he shifted uncomfortably and looked down balefully, his early morning glory having morphed into a raging hard-on - because yeah, that was pretty hard to deny.  
  
He scratched lazily at the hair on his chest and sighed, wondering how long it was going to take Spock to finish up so he could make use of their shared facilities.  Leaning back on his elbows he stared at the ceiling, doing quadratic equations in his head to try to push away the vision of what he’d seen, and what he knew was still going on just a few meters from where he was.  This was Spock, his good friend, and it felt disrespectful to be having those kind of thoughts about him.  
  
After serving together for nearly a year, it was the first time Jim had seen Spock naked, never mind doing anything as intimate as beating himself off.  Up to then, he never would have thought Vulcans would be so illogically self-indulgent.  Not that that was a thought that had crossed his mind.  Well not often anyway.  When it had, he supposed it was because his First Officer was so prim and proper, so uptight, so perfectly controlled, that thinking of Spock doing something so _human_ made him feel, well maybe less… not inferior exactly, because he didn’t feel that, maybe less _flawed_.  Not that he’d ever before tried to analyze why he might have even imagined something like that.  
  
But while Jim waited for the bathroom to free up, and now that he had evidence that Spock did sometimes give in to his baser passions, it was as good a matter to consider as any, he decided.  Not that all this thinking was helping him much, as his pajama pants now sported a small damp patch where his cock was _crying_ out for some loving attention and he unconsciously pressed the heel of his hand against the hard column.  The movement wasn’t quite appeasement and his cock told his brain so, causing his breath to hitch a little at the contact, demanding he take himself in hand.  This he resolutely refused to do because, as Spock very clearly knew, the shower was a much better place for that kind of thing.  
  
Jim didn’t know the finer details of Spock’s former relationship with Uhura, but from the hot kiss they’d shared that time on the transport pad - and guessing what a little fox she could probably be when she got going (because the uptight ones, Jim had found, were often the more adventurous lays when you finally got them between the sheets and they really let go) - Spock had likely been getting way more sex than Jim _Tomcat_ Kirk at the start of their mission.  
  
The fact that the sex-life of his Vulcan friend had - for a while - been eclipsing his own, was not something he admitted easily – he had a reputation to uphold, after all. But he knew that while he was considered something of a stud-muffin by a good proportion of his crew, he paid enough attention in Leadership 101 to know that acting on it was probably not the greatest idea for discipline, even if the decision did, at times, leave him feeling lonely and starved of affection.  And as he considered his self-imposed isolation, it occurred to him that he must have matured a bit when he realized he wanted the respect of his crew for being a good captain more than for the number of people he could shag in any given week.  
  
Now that the bridge’s Golden Couple had broken up, Jim supposed Spock doing himself in the shower was the only way he could get his rocks off with anything like the frequency he’d gotten used to. And it wasn’t Jim’s fault he’d walked in on Spock like that.  The reason for this small faux pas had been that the privacy lock had somehow managed to malfunction and he’d been half asleep when he staggered into the bathroom they shared to use the head.  His scheduled 06:23 subspace conference call with Commodore Nehali meant he was up an hour earlier than was usual for Alpha shift.  The weird time, Jim assumed, was to accommodate Nehali, it probably equating to some more reasonable time of day at Starbase14 where he was stationed and they were currently headed.  Jim was not an early bird, never had been.  Given a choice, the only time he saw dawn was because he hadn't been to bed yet.  
  
So being even more bleary eyed than usual at this goddamn early hour, he hadn’t noticed the bathroom was occupied until he was well inside; it was a sheer fluke that he wasn't already pulling his dick out to take a piss.  He assumed it was the humming of the sonics that had prevented Spock from hearing the quiet swish of the door, and with his eyes closed and clearly deep in some fantasy – or wherever Vulcans went to in their heads when they masturbated – he’d failed to see his Captain enter.  Thank fuck.  
  
Jim figured it was the alteration to his normal schedule that was part of the problem, because this was the first time he could recall Spock using the facilities at the same time he needed them.  The Vulcan, he knew, was an early riser - since he needed only a couple of hours rest - and was normally up and dressed long before he’d even fallen out of bed.  
  
Like pretty much all men, Jim was curious how others sized up against himself, and so his eyes had immediately taken in the measure of the Vulcan.  He was surprised at how green it looked – like the color of Spring leaves – and, he conceded a little grudgingly, perhaps it was a little longer than his own.  Jim was nothing if not magnanimous and didn’t let this newfound knowledge affect his ego.  Well, not too much anyway.  
  
Damn, if he didn’t get a move on, he’d be late for the call.  He got up and padded over to the bathroom door and listened.  No noise.  He knocked lightly.  Nothing.  Pressing the button, the door slid open and he was relieved to find it empty.  Despite running late, it didn’t stop Jim in the shower, mirroring what Spock had been doing.  And if he’d gotten off imagining what that jade joystick would feel like crammed in his ass, even if it wasn’t the kind of thought he should be harboring for a friend, no-one would be any the wiser.  
  
-=-=-  
  
Spock walked into the conference room as Jim was confirming arrangements with the Commodore and stood just off-camera.  As soon as he’d signed off, Spock approached and suddenly Jim was very conscious that his position on the chair with Spock standing beside him, put his eye-line on a level with the Vulcan’s crotch.  Naturally, because Jim was alive and breathing and he didn’t have the same kind of control Vulcans did, damn it, his mind was flooded by a very unwanted image.  Well, unwanted in that particular moment, at any rate.  It had served him well earlier, he conceded, but now he felt a heated flush crawl up his neck at the memory of Spock in _flagrante delicto_.  
  
“I understand you have finalized details for shoreleave, Captain.” Spock wore his usual placid expression.   
  
Jim was just standing and that’s when it hit him.  He hadn’t thought about it because all he _had_ been thinking about was Spock’s cock – hmm, that had a nice ring to it, he thought.  _Spock’s cock._   But looking at his First Officer now, the memory of the expression he’d worn as he beat his meat was almost euphoric.  His eyes had been tightly closed, his jaw slack with his mouth slightly open.  There had been a kind of quiet intensity there, an absolute stillness other than his hand sliding up and down his shaft, his attention entirely focused on some inner world.  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow slightly and Jim realized he hadn’t yet answered the question.  “Uh, yeah,” he responded vaguely, still distracted.  
  
It’s funny, Jim thought, how you can look at someone and suddenly see them differently because you know something about them that’s private and secret, especially when they don’t know that you know.  It reminded him of a time when he was 12 and he’d caught Mr. McKinlay, his physics teacher, screwing one of the math teachers in a science lab after school.  Up to then, he’d felt intimidated by the man who didn’t appreciate the way he used to fool around in class and had generally shouted at him a lot, but once Jim had heard McKinlay murmur ‘Yeah, feel my hot python of love fill up your nest, baby’ to Miss Kounova, he’d never been able to take the dude seriously again.  
  
“Would you care to furnish me with the details, Captain," Spock said, cutting through his fond memory like a scalpel lancing a boil.  "Your statement, ‘Um yeah’ singularly fails to furnish me with sufficient data to provide logistics in order that they may commence creating a crew shoreleave schedule that will meet your approval prior to our arrival.”  
  
Jim grinned at Spock's colloquial language use and sense of humor, and as he did so, it occurred to him that something had shifted for him. He realized that laid over the familiar scene of his First Officer standing in front of him looking his usual prissy self, Jim had another scene in which the Vulcan wasn't looking _quite_ so composed.  Spock had looked fucking hot, Jim realized and hard on the heels of that insight came another one, which was that he would love to be the one that made Spock’s control falter, or better still, see him completely come apart.  
  
He forced his mind back to the present and grinned.  “Is that a touch of sarcasm there, Commander?”  
  
“You appear distracted, Captain,” Spock countered.  “Are you quite well?”  
  
Jim let the non-answer slide.  “I’m well, but not happy to be up this early.”  It wasn’t a lie.  _Up_ had a few meanings, and given what was going on inside his trousers, it wasn’t an inappropriate word to have chosen.  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
Of course Spock wouldn’t argue with him on that, because they’d worked together long enough for him to have witnessed first hand how un-alert his Captain could be on early shifts when nothing much was going on.  
   
“Commodore Nehali’s OK’d us having three full days.  His assistant’s going to send Uhura the details.”  
  
Jim looked into Spock’s eyes and wondered what they’d look like lit up with passion, and then realized this really wasn’t helping what was taking place below his waist.  Break the mood, he thought.  Get up to the bridge where there’ll be some welcome distractions.  
  
If Spock noticed him walking slightly oddly out of the conference room, Jim was glad he didn’t mention it.  
  
-=-=-  
  
Jim managed to keep his thoughts at a more professional level until Chekov called Spock over to take a look at something.   
   
“See there, Mr. Spock.  It’s wery faint.”  
   
Spock stood behind Chekov’s left shoulder, one hand placed on the back of his chair and leaned forward to look at the small screen at the navigator’s station.  The way he did it made the material of his uniform trousers tighten around his ass, just so.  Jim had never noticed what a nice ass Spock had until then.  And it was right there in front of him.  He could literally lean forward and palm one of his buttocks right there and then.  
   
“Anything I should know about, Spock?” he asked, dragging his mind back to his job.  
   
“Negative Captain,” Spock responded, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of him.  “We are picking up a burst of gamma rays that appear to originate from the delta quadrant, consistent with the emission during the initial phase of a supernova.”  
   
Jim continued to stare at Spock’s ass.  It didn’t take a great leap of imagination – for him at least – in his mind's eye to strip Spock of his uniform and visualize him bent over in front of him, Jim's hand gripping one of those nice, narrow hips, the other reaching round to work the Vulcan's tool as he fucked him into tomorrow.  
   
Shit, this was inappropriate in so many ways.  
   
Jim cleared his throat, ignoring the hot flush that was creeping up his neck and face. “Does it pose any danger, Mr. Spock?”  He didn’t think so from his astronomy studies at the Academy, but he’d rather hear it from an expert.  
   
Spock straightened up, pulled down his top with a sharp tug and turned to him.  “Negative, Sir.  Its origins are approximately 60,000 light years away.  It is merely a…curiosity.”  
   
Chekov swung round in his chair, looking as flushed as Jim felt, though for a very different reason. “It is da first supernowa I hef seen from space, Keptin.” Jim smiled at his obvious excitement.  “Da first one on Earth vas discovered by a Russian.”  
   
Russia must have annexed its largest neighbor to its east at some point in the past, Jim thought, as he could have sworn the first supernova was recorded by a Chinese astronomer.  He caught Spock’s eye and knew he was thinking the same thing when he saw the smallest quirk of a smile play about that cute little mouth… did he really just think his First Officer’s mouth was _cute_?  Fuck, he _really_ needed this upcoming shoreleave badly.  
  
-=-=-  
  
The day that had started out to Jim as pretty darn weird, headed in the afternoon towards something approximating surreal.  He managed to avoid having lunch with Spock, but the Vulcan caught up with him on his way back to the bridge.  
  
“Mr. Scott informs me he is ready to make the improvements to the impulse systems as discussed in yesterday’s briefing.  You expressed a wish to learn more about how modifications are undertaken.  When you are free, I will demonstrate the steps to you.”  
  
“I’m free now if you are,” Jim replied with a smile.  He’d never been a geek, other than his love of computers, although that interest was more for the fun and challenge of hacking into supposedly secure systems than anything else and therefore didn’t count in his book.  But he was quite happy to get all nerdy about his ship although he knew he’d never reach the heights that Scotty had attained.  The more he knew about the Enterprise, the more he would understand what she was capable of and what her limitations were.  One day that knowledge could mean the difference between success and failure, life or death.  For that, he was prepared to enter into geekhood.  “Lead on Macduff.”  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, although Jim could see he considered it and grinned.  The turbolift took them to deck 15 where they were greeted by the ever cheerful Chief Engineer.  Jim was reminded that he needed to bring the technical glitch with his bathroom door to Scotty's attention, but he didn’t want to say anything in front of Spock.  He’d have to save it for later.  
  
“We’re ready to begin the modification, Cap’n.  Mr. Spock’ll take you to the number six Jefferies tube and show you how tae override the system and then we’ll fix it from here.  It’ll be a wee bit of a squeeze with the two of you.  Are ye ready?”  
  
Spock nodded and led the way down one deck.  Scotty wasn’t kidding.  Jim peered up at the shaft that ran diagonally from the aft end of the impulse high bay.  The tube was no more than a meter and a half in diameter, with a ladder running up inside.  
  
“I suggest I go first, Captain.  The impulse power slave control panel is three point two meters from this level.”  
  
Jim looked dubiously up the tube.  “Why didn’t they put it somewhere more accessible?”  
  
“There is remote access to this unit from both the bridge and auxiliary control, however both were required to be deactivated to facilitate the modification.  This panel accesses the impulse power units directly and requires command override to prevent tampering.”  
  
Jim nodded.  That made sense he thought as he watched Spock ascend the ladder. If the ship were in the midst of a hostile take-over, that wouldn't be an intuitive place to look for the panel.  When Spock stopped and turned to face the forward wall of the shaft, Jim climbed up and encouraged by Spock, stood two rungs down.  Twisting around, he pulled one of the harnesses that were located at periodic intervals adjacent to the ladder across him to hold him place.  Great, now he had his back pressed to Spock’s body, like he really needed this much contact after what he’d seen that morning and the way his mind had been working all day.  Having Spock’s groin pressed between his shoulder-blades was definitely _not_ going to be conducive to focusing on the matter at hand. He sighed. He hadn't been this horny in a long time; shoreleave could not come soon enough.

It’s funny, one of those things you learn about in theory, but the experience of it is still catches you off guard; like just how rough you actually feel when you get your first hangover, or the utter exhilaration the first time you get to pilot an aircar. What was surprising Jim right now was just how physically hot Spock was.  He was like a walking heater, Jim thought, and with their close proximity, he was breaking out into a sweat.  What would that heat feel like pressed against his skin? he wondered.  
  
Jim watched while Spock gave the computer his command code and a panel slid up to reveal a control console, and tried really, really hard not to think about the fact that, albeit through a few layers of clothing, he was pushed up against his First Officer’s overly warm wanger.  The one that was such a neat shade of green and looked pretty hot held in those same long, slim fingers that were currently inputting a code on the screen in front of them.  The ones that he knew from experience were deceptively strong and could hold him immobile in their vice-like grip.  
  
Would Jim feel that heat if Spock were to slide it into him, burning inside him like a brand?  And would his tight ass cause friction so that it got so hot it consumed them both?  His cock, not surprisingly, had perked up interest at these thoughts and Jim groaned inwardly as his hard on strained inside his briefs.  He badly needed to adjust himself to a more comfortable position but there was no way he could without Spock seeing.  So he was going to just have to grin and bare it.  
  
“This is the impulse synchrotron unit, Captain,” Spock’s voice broke through his reverie, forcing his mind to focus on their reason for being there.  “We are required to take the main driver coil offline temporarily, and once done, inform Mr. Scott to commence the necessary modifications.  Do you recall how to do this?”  
  
“I think so.”  It had been nearly a year since he’d last been to a class on engineering, and longer still since he covered impulse propulsion systems in constitution class ships.  But he wasn’t a Grade A student for nothing and with a moment’s thought, began to key in the information that would program the unit.  
  
There was a feeling of triumph when his input was accepted by the ship’s computer.  
  
“Mr. Scott,” Spock spoke into his communicator.  “Main driver coil now offline.  Advise when complete.”  
  
“Aye Mr. Spock.  It shouldna take more than a couple of minutes.”  
  
A couple of minutes, Jim thought, to do nothing but wait and feel Spock plastered against him.  It wasn’t just the situation he currently found himself in that was hard.  His rigid rod, which had a tendency to act entirely independently of  him on occasion - actually a lot of the time now he thought about it - was refusing to die and in fact, was likely hoping to be beaten into submission.  
  
“Lieutenant Fraah in Stellar Cartography has identified the supernova we detected as SN2248rg,” Spock said conversationally as they waited.  “It is a white dwarf on the Outer Arm that appears to have few significant celestial bodies within a ten-thousand light year vicinity and is sufficiently removed from Alpha Quadrant to pose no radioactive threat.”  
  
Jim wasn’t really listening to what Spock was saying, his mind still too caught up in the physical to be able to rationally think to any degree now that he didn’t _have_ to.  “Right.  Good.”  That said, they fell into silence.  He really wished Scotty would hurry and finish up, already.  
  
“Would you care for a game of chess tonight, Captain?”  
  
“Uh…” He tried to think of an excuse but his brain wasn’t exactly operating on full capacity right now.  “Yeah, Okay.  21:00 work for you?”  That would give him plenty of time to get his day’s paperwork done and get some dinner.  He tended to have fewer disturbances that late in the evening too and he needed to concentrate if he was going to whup Spock’s ass again.  The memory of his last win still filled him with glee, more from the surprised look on his First Officer’s face when he hadn’t seen it coming.  It wasn’t often he caught Spock out, so the victory had been that much sweeter.

"That is satisfactory."  
  
“Mr. Spock,” came Scotty’s cheery voice, “the modifications are complete.  You can put the driver coil back online.”  
  
It was a piece of cake, but now he’d learned one new thing that might one day come in handy.  Before returning to the bridge, he was going to have to go back to his quarters to change his shirt, as it was now plastered with sweat to his back, and he wondered if Spock’s trousers were in the same condition.  Vulcans may not sweat, but humans in close proximity to them sure did.  While he was there, he was going to do something about little Jimmy too.  Like strangle the fucker.  
  
-=-=-  
  
A good way into Beta shift, having caught up with the administrative stuff and approved Logistics’ shoreleave schedule, Bones came up to the bridge and dragged him off to dinner.  Spending time with the doctor always left Jim in a good mood, just because listening to his friend rant about his woes reminded him that things were never that bad in his own world.  He didn’t mention the _Bathroom Incident_ , but did share his experience of squeezing into a Jefferies tube with Spock, adding a few embellishments that had Bones laughing, which accomplished his primary objective.  
  
He’d not had time to shower earlier after his Spock-induced sauna, so left early to get washed and changed into something informal.  He was just putting on his tee-shirt when the door chimed and pulling it down, he walked barefoot to his desk to activate the door.  Spock walked in carrying the chessboard.  
  
“Apologies for being early, Captain.  Mr. Sulu has commandeered the main rec room for his table tennis competition.  As there appears to be considerable noise generated by the cheering of spectators, I thought we might play elsewhere.  Here, or the officer’s lounge?”  
  
Jim should have remembered as they were now on round three and proving very popular among the crew, everyone was talking about it.  Jim really couldn’t be bothered with the schlep to the lounge which was at the ass end of the ship overlooking the nacelles.  “OK, we’ll play here.”  
  
Spock nodded curtly once and set up the board while Jim went over to the replicator.  “Want a drink?”  
  
“An herbal tea – I will leave the choice to you.”  
  
Jim programmed in his coffee and considered.  Ah yes.  
  
He set the cup down on the table.  “Aldebaran Joyflower.  My mother swears by it.”  
  
“Swears?  She does not like it?” Spock asked tilting his head slightly.  
  
Jim had been caught enough times to know when Spock was making an attempt at humor and the slight quirk of his lips proved his was right.  
  
After fifteen minutes Jim knew he was losing badly.  The trouble was that every time Spock considered the board and his next move, Jim found himself recalling that morning.  And such thoughts were definitely _not_ conducive to the kind of concentration levels he needed to play a decent game of chess with his First Officer.  If they’d been in the rec room, there would have been plenty of other distractions to keep his mind off, but here in his quarters with the object of two of his fantasies that day sitting less than a meter from him, all he could do was remember.  
  
Looking at the smooth line of Spock’s neck, he was reminded of the almost porcelain skin of the Vulcan’s chest and stomach, scattered with a light dusting of hair.  Skin that he found, more and more, he wanted to explore with his hands, with his mouth, his whole body now he came to think about it.  Not that he’d thought about much else all day.  He felt like he was a teenager again with hormones raging out of control.  This is what celibacy had brought him to, he thought wryly.  The sad fact of it was that he couldn’t get the vision out of his head of Spock clutching that sage sausage of his, and Jim wanted - _really_ wanted - a piece of that action.  
  
The thought of that mouth sucking his cock, being able to watch it slowly slide in and out, imagining a look of rapture on Spock’s face as he took all of him in was…arousing.  Jim pulled surreptitiously at the front of his jeans under the table and shifted slightly.  He almost didn’t see it, but right about then, he saw Spock’s nostrils flare just a tiny bit.  Maybe he did that when he really concentrated, as he was gazing intently at the board.  
  
Spock was driving him nuts.  That was Jim to a T: wanting something unattainable.  Because it wasn’t like he could just casually say to Spock, who’d become a good friend over the last year, ‘Hey, caught you in the bathroom this morning buffing the wood and haven’t been able to think of anything since.  Wanna fuck?’  No, without the calming influence of Spock’s dad, he wasn’t going to risk that one after the last time he pissed the Vulcan off.  
  
Spock finally moved a rook and sat back.  “Check.”  
  
Jim leaned forward.  Shit, mate in three.  He had to move his bishop or he was done for.  When he reached for it, his hands were a little unsteady and he knocked it off the top tier of the board.  As it clattered down to the table and threatened to bounce onto the floor, both he and Spock went for it, Jim grabbing it and Spock being a little slower missing it, grabbing Jim's hand by accident.  
  
They both stilled and Jim knew,   _just_ _knew,_ that Spock was reading him, seeing what had been preoccupying him all day.  Knew that right now, he had a hard-on brought about by less-than-pure thoughts about his First Officer.  
  
Spock stood abruptly and so did Jim, not wanting to give the Vulcan the upper hand if he was going to get decked.  Suddenly Spock lunged, slamming him hard against the bulkhead, nearly knocking the breath out of him.  But the expected grip around the throat never came.  
  
Jim wasn’t sure what he was more surprised about.  Spock kissing him.  Or Spock’s hard-on pressed against his own.  Either was a shock and for a moment, Jim’s was too startled to think.  But then again, he was a man of the galaxy and while his brain may not be engaged, autopilot took over and he kissed Spock back breathlessly.  
  
The kiss was fierce and demanding and coming from his normally placid First Officer, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so turned on.  Spock’s tongue shoved its way into his mouth like a marauding conqueror taking victorious control and Jim gracefully surrendered without so much as a token fight.  The heat pouring off Spock all the way from Jim’s mouth to his groin was lighting him up.  
  
Jim’s brain slowly came back online.  Fuck, he was - technically speaking, since he hadn't actually verbally consented - being sexually assaulted by his First Officer.  He opened his eyes just to make sure, and in the fuzziness of such close proximity, the upswept eyebrows and the dead-straight bangs, not to mention the myriad sensations dancing up and down his body, left him in no doubt that this was really happening, that he hadn't gone back to his cabin after dinner and fallen asleep.  But was it really sexual assault if it was something he wanted? he wondered.  Could the prior brief touch of hands which had allowed Spock, through telepathic contact, to see his lust for him, be construed as sexual harassment by a superior officer?  It was testament to Jim’s vast experience that he could have these thoughts without his tongue breaking its stride, curling around its hotter-than-human counterpart and enticing it into his own mouth, from which vantage point he began to suck on it.  
  
Bizarre, Jim thought, how Spock kind of tasted like he smelled.  Not that the Vulcan had a particularly strong odor – it was very subtle, in fact – and he would certainly never be able to describe it to anyone.  It was like one of those special scents you can’t remember until you smell it again and then it kind of hits you between the eyes, like new-mown grass, or fruity chewing gum, or the smell of tar.  Well, okay Jim knew that last one was odd, but everyone had unusual smells they liked, didn’t they?  The girl in the house next door to his in Iowa used to practically come anytime they painted their wooden fence with creosote.  Creosote, for pete’s sake.  She was _weird_.  But Jim could taste Spock as he sucked on his tongue, and fuck did it turn him on.  
  
Jim thought that maybe now would be a good time to have a bit of dialogue.  Just to check-in to where Spock was at and what this was about.  So he pushed a little and then remembered that when Vulcans don’t want to be moved, there isn’t a human alive who could do anything about it.  Clearly, Spock was quite happy where he was – well if not happy, because that’s an emotion his First Officer would probably vehemently deny having – then maybe comfortable, pinning him to the bulkhead and sucking his face off.  
  
Jim tried again and this time, without breaking the intoxicating kiss which had been going on, he estimated, for several minutes, Spock grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.  Well, that wasn’t fair, Jim decided.  What if he wanted to feel up Spock's pert little ass like he’d imagined on the bridge that morning?  He’d have pouted if Spock wasn’t nibbling and sucking on his lower lip like a contented baby with a pacifier.  The thought led to him imagining Spock as a baby with his cute pointy ears and his pointy eyebrows and he almost smiled.  
  
He had one of those insane thoughts that flit across your mind at inappropriate moments which was something like 'My god if that bulkhead suddenly turned transparent, what would the passing crew make of their Captain and First Officer making out together?'  Kirk the skirt-chaser and Spock the emotionless Vulcan, having passionate sex against a wall.  
  
As that thought, like a little pooh stick, floated away on Jim’s stream of consciousness, Spock finally pulled back and Jim got the first proper view of his eyes, seeing they were wide and dark with desire.  The lower half of Spock’s body was all movement as he ground their pelvises together, creating a delicious friction along the length of his trapped cock.  Spock’s breaths came in little puffs across Jim’s face and it was truly the first time he had ever seen him breathe anything but evenly.  
  
“I’m guessing,” Jim gasped between his own choppy pants of arousal, “that you didn’t have a problem with what you saw in my mind a few minutes ago.” Jim felt he ought to say something just to try and clarify what was going on, now that his mouth was free.  Not that that was a state he necessarily wanted because damn, Spock knew how to kiss and where the fuck did he learn to kiss like that?  
  
Spock must have been reading his mind again, because he leaned forward and once again began to kiss him deeply, ravishing his mouth and taking his breath away.  It was rare for Jim to kiss someone the same height as him, since despite his bisexuality, his preference was generally of the female variety.  At over six feet tall, few women matched him in height – the only one who came to mind on his crew was Nurse Chapel and she’d never appealed to him.  Jim thought it was kind of nice not having to lean down for kisses.  
  
The hand not holding Jim’s wrists worked its way under the hem of his tee-shirt, hot slender fingers grazing lightly over his skin, contacting a nipple, lazily rolling it with the pad of a finger and then pinching it, making Jim gasp as an arrow of heat shot down to his groin.  The hand moved across to pay similar attention on the other side and Jim had to force himself not to shudder.  
  
The hot hand moved further down and made quick work of the fastener of Jim’s jeans, snaking inside, at which point Spock discovered there was only skin and hair, no briefs.  Jim smiled as the intimate exploration faltered for a moment - he frequently chose not to wear underwear once he’d changed out of his uniform, preferring the freedom that even boxers didn’t give him.  He heard Spock’s breath hitch at the discovery, but all thought fled when he felt a thumb swirl languidly over the crown of his cock, sliding in the fluid already there.  Jim felt the jeans move down his legs and with an impatient move, they pooled on the floor.  Not having gotten around to putting on socks and shoes before Spock’s early appearance, Jim neatly stepped out of them and kicked them away.  
  
As Spock took Jim’s cock into his fist, he pulled back from the kiss and began to trail his tongue and teeth along Jim’s jaw, his cap of black hair tickling across Jim's skin as he lowered his head down and pressed his lips against his neck, his teeth scraping along the skin.  Jim’s legs threatened to give way the instant Spock’s teeth sunk into his flesh, deep enough that he knew would leave a mark – hopefully one in a place that would be concealed by his uniform shirt.  
  
“Fuck!” Jim gasped.  
  
“As you wish,” Spock murmured and crushed his lips to Jim’s, causing his nerves to come alive as a million tiny messages were sent around his over-sensitized body.  Jim whimpered in protest when Spock released him – mouth, hands and cock – stepping back a little to undo the fastening to his trousers.  Then Jim felt it sliding against him, that wonderful, glorious cock he’d seen that morning, kissing his own in a first, friendly greeting.  He shuddered, looking down to catch a glimpse, its depth of green no less of a surprise than it had been that morning.  Jim could easily fall in love with it.  
  
“Beautiful,” he whispered appreciatively and looking up, caught Spock’s gaze.  
  
Spock pushed his pants down, toeing off his shoes so they were both naked from the waist down.  In his hand, he held a tube of lube – where the fuck had that come from?  And opening it, slathered on a generous amount, his hand working from base to tip as Jim had seen him do that morning.  Jim batted his hand away, to replace it with his own.  And fuck it was so hot, like it should have had steam coming off of it, hot.  As he explored it, circled the head, pressed his finger between the double ridges beneath the head, he heard Spock gasp, and then felt a hand slip between his legs, fingers searching for his ass.  When one slipped in, he fought the need to call out.  It was the most intimate and erotic thing he’d ever felt and Spock had barely gotten started.  When a second finger joined the first, Jim began humping them, sliding up and down wantonly like some exotic dancer who maybe, if he pleased the client, would get more.  And Jim so wanted more.  He wanted what he’d fantasized about in the shower that morning.  He wanted all of Spock, buried as deep inside him as he could go.  
  
When the third finger moved in, it was as though Spock had touched a live wire in him and a shudder ripped through his body.  Jim wrapped his arms around Spock’s neck and then moved his legs up, one at a time, to circle his waist.  Vulcan strength and the hard bulkhead behind, easily held him in place.  Jim’s heart was hammering in his chest and sweat dripped down his back.  
  
Spock cupped his hands around the backs of Jim’s upper thighs and shifted him higher, lifting him easily.  Releasing one hand, the Vulcan pulled his own hips down and back slightly, using his other hand to guide himself to press against the entrance to Jim's body.  Jim sighed audibly in pleasure when he felt the tip of Spock touch him and enter him.  Focusing on breathing and bearing down, he knew it would feel incredible once he’d adjusted, and suddenly it did as his muscles slacked off.  Spock took it as the all clear and suddenly buried himself completely inside Jim.  
  
He cried out loud in shock and pleasure, but Spock made no effort to move, apparently sensing that Jim needed time to adjust to accommodate his bulk.  Any further outburst was cut off as Spock roughly pressed his mouth over Jim's, need driving him like a wild, untamable beast.  Jim felt a buzzing in his ears and realized in all the excitement that he wasn’t breathing properly, and concentrated - as much as he could in the circumstances - on taking longer, deeper breaths.  
  
His fingernails dug through the cloth on Spock’s back, wanting him to move.  What he needed was wild, uncontrolled sex and he needed it now.  Apparently reading his need, Spock obliged.  He lifted Jim slightly, tilting his hips back and withdrew almost completely.  Jim cried out as Spock’s teeth sank into his shoulder, thrusting forward at the same time as his hot hand curled around Jim’s aching, dripping cock.  
  
_Oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck._  
  
Shifting Jim’s legs higher to allow himself deeper access, he began a rhythm of thrusting that had Jim’s lower back beating against the bulkhead.  Mindless with lust it devoured them both, like a raging beast caged inside of them, fighting and tearing for release.  
  
The hot hand that engulfed him, and the firm flesh that filled him, pushed Jim to the edge as every muscle in his body seemed to contract painfully at once. Muscles deep inside of him clenched tightly around Spock’s throbbing shaft and with a hoarse and shuddering gasp, Jim’s body went rigid as his orgasm ignited deep inside of him, his world shattering, his vision exploding into a thousand lights as a torrent of shockwaves overran his system so powerfully that he could barely breathe, erupting from the core of him to send his seed spurting out over Spock's chest and stomach.  
  
He was vaguely aware that Spock was still going with powerful strokes, pounding into him in a primal dance, working only on instinct, his control utterly shattered as Jim had wanted.  His body was exhausted, feeling like he couldn’t take any more, his fingers digging into the Vulcan’s back, but his body refused to listen, demanding, pushing Spock to continue to completion.  
  
Spock lifted his head from where it was held against his shoulder and almost violently took his mouth, tongues meeting, fighting in a breathtaking kiss that spoke of yearning and need.  Then breaking the kiss, Spock’s fingers came up to his face.  Jim nodded, _yes he wanted it,_ and suddenly he wasn’t alone in his head.  He was both taken and taker, filling and filled, and his heart-that-was-not-his-heart was thrumming at an impossibly fast rate, breath laboring in his lungs.  There was more, as he felt his consciousness surrounded by a golden light that coalesced, and as Spock thrust upward one last time, Jim recognized himself in that golden vision, saw himself as Spock saw him, just as Spock’s internal world exploded in an incandescent light, like a thousand atom bombs detonating to inflict utter annihilation.  
  
Jim’s awareness of self slowly returned and he realized he was once again alone in his head, Spock’s head buried against his neck.  His heart was hammering against his chest, his breathing coming in harsh, labored gasps as though he'd physically experienced a second climax.  Swallowing slowly, his mouth utterly dry from his exertions, his entire body was tingling.  Canting his hips, Spock slowly withdrew and Jim dropped his legs back to the deck.  
  
-=-=-  
  
Lying on his bed, they still hadn’t spoken.  Spock had just climbed onto him, lying above him and kissed him deeply.  But Jim wanted to talk, damn it, to understand what was going on, but he also wanted to kiss.  It was like having an insect bite; the moment you scratched it, there was that blissful relief but a minute later, it was screaming to be scratched again.  They _needed_ to talk and despite his best effort, he hadn’t been able to push Spock away.  So he tried to get that one thought across to him in the hope he’d pick it up, while at the same time, tried to turn his mouth away – not easy when a part of him really didn’t want to end the kiss.

Spock _finally_ got the message and released his mouth, but remained pressed against him.

“Don’t get me wrong, Spock, I’m not complaining – that was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had. I’ve been thinking about nothing else all day and that meld at the end nearly blew my mind.”  He considered mentioning what he’d seen that morning, but decided against it.  “But I’d…” _just like to know where I stand._   Fuck, he was so not going to say those words, or anything that resembled them, and end up sounding like a needy teenager.  “I’d like to know if what you read in me provoked you into this, or if you’ve been thinking of this for some time.”   
  
He was amazed at how calm and lucid that sounded, given his body still felt like one huge hormone.  That was command training for you.  Not that he could have ever predicted, when they put all the cadets on his course through some truly vile simulations to test their strength of will, control, determination and resilience, that he would be using it to try to figure out where a horny Vulcan was coming from, emotionally.  
  
Spock looked away at some point over his right shoulder, as if he was scrutinizing some flaw in his headboard like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.  “I have been thinking of it for some time,” he finally confessed and cast his eyes down, as though ashamed of the admission.  
  
Jim lifted his chin and looked at him, waiting until Spock’s eyes met his.  “Well then, it’s a win-win, isn’t it?  Because I wanted this too.”  And if that evening was anything to go by, Jim wanted it again and again.  All day, he'd been imagining Spock losing control at his hands and he’d got his wish in spades.  He clenched his ass and winced.  Looked like he was going to be left with a memory or two for the next couple of days.  He’d have to make sure Bones didn’t notice if he walked a bit more stiffly or sat down more gingerly in his chair.  He wasn’t quite ready to share this yet.  
  
Jim’s hand snaked behind Spock’s neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss.  When it ended, he asked quietly,  “Tell me this isn’t a one-off, Spock.”  
  
Spock kissed him on the end of his nose.  “It will not be, if that is your wish also.”  
  
“What about you?  What do you want?”  Yes he wanted Spock, but not just because he was doing this out of some kind of misguided sense of duty – how often had he lectured Jim on how it was his job to keep the Captain safe and well, although granted having sex with him would be taking that vow a bit far.  But neither did he want sex with Spock because he thought it was what Jim wanted.  It had to be two-way, or nothing.  
  
“I have…a confession to make,” Spock said quietly, still not meeting his eyes.  Jim noticed his face and voice had returned to something like his bridge persona, which given he was lying naked above him was quite a feat.  
  
“Go on,” Jim urged, fearing what he might say, though he honestly had no idea what it might be.  
  
“I engineered the events of this evening,” Spock said flatly.  
  
Jim deftly flipped Spock off him and leaning up on one elbow, looked down at him.  “How?”  
  
“The malfunctioning bathroom door – I knew what time you would rise this morning for the conference call.  I…paraded myself in front of you on the bridge.  The modification to the impulse power was an idea I had considered before now, and it was my suggestion to Mr. Scott that I take you into the Jeffries tube to ‘mentor’ you on how to take the system off-line.  It was my intention to find a way for us to touch so I could ‘accidentally’ discover what you were thinking.  Your dropping the chess piece was serendipitous.”  
  
Jim laughed and bent down to kiss Spock, a lazy, post-coital kiss that spoke more of affection than of lust - though that would be back soon enough as his refraction period was pretty good and he’d be up and raring to go in just a short while.  
  
Jim released his mouth and grinned.  “You crazy fucker,” he said warmly.  “Why didn’t you just say something?”  
  
“I had calculated the probability of my interest being reciprocated at 73.6%.  It was not significant enough for me to approach you directly and risk damaging the balance of command.  So, I chose…provocation as the means to divine the truth.  I knew my plan was successful when I detected your arousal on several occasions today, indeed whenever I was in your vicinity." Jim's surprise at this revelation must have shown on his face, as Spock added by way of an explanation, "The Vulcan sensory system is more acute and finely tuned than that of a human.”

Jim felt too happy to be embarrassed. “I have a proposal for you. How about we take those three days of shoreleave on Starbase 14 together and get to know one another better.  And if, while we’re there, you feel the urge to jerk off in the shower, let me know so I can come and help you out with it.”

Spock's lips curled up into a small smile.  "Your proposal is most logical, Jim. I accept."

And just like that, the loneliness of command became a thing of the past. Bestowing a lascivious grin on his Vulcan that earned a raised eyebrow in query, Jim felt his todger begin to perk up from its temporary respite. This was going to be the best shoreleave. Ever.

 

[finis]

**Author's Note:**

> Story written for the LiveJournal st_xi_kink meme for this prompt: Spock has a huge, gorgeous (green!) alien penis. Which Kirk sees by accident and inevitably becomes obsessed with. He dreams about/can't stop thinking about Spock's cock and even tells his best buddy McCoy (who is horrified) about his obsession and then lulz, and then eventually Spock/Kirk porn, ensues.
> 
> Double bonus points if Spock turns out to be a completely toppy bastard and Kirk loves the hell out of it.


End file.
